A Singular Man Remembered

`A Man Is Many Men In His Life.' -- William Manchester

William Manchester Praised As Father, Historian, Writer

June 14, 2004|By MIKE SWIFT; Courant Staff Writer

MIDDLETOWN — Shrouded by the Stars and Stripes, borne in an unvarnished pine casket built by his family, the body of author William Manchester was carried from Memorial Chapel at Wesleyan University Sunday.

Manchester, the historian and biographer known for his page-turning chronicles of the death of John F. Kennedy and the life of Winston Churchill, was eulogized Sunday in a service that echoed what Manchester once said several years ago: ``A man is many men in his life.''

During an emotional service attended by his three children and about 150 relatives, friends and colleagues, it was clear that Manchester was many things in the course of an 82-year life that ended June 1.

Robert Manchester recalled his brother as a Marine who made the minimum enlistment weight by force-feeding himself bananas and milk until he got sick, who went on to fight in some of World War II's most terrible battles in the Pacific and receive the Navy Cross, the Silver Star and three Purple Hearts.

William Manchester was a foreign correspondent for the Baltimore Sun, and he was a history professor who felt ``sheer joy'' at being around Wesleyan students after his arrival in Middletown in 1955.

He was a lifelong champion of the underdog who rooted for the Boston Red Sox; a steadfast friend with a wry sense of humor, and a New Deal Democrat who once said his grandson could be anything he wanted to be, ``just not a terrorist and not a Republican,'' recalled a group of speakers that included daughter Laurie Manchester, Wesleyan President Douglas Bennet, his literary agent Don Congdon, and a friend of 40 years, Jeffrey Baker.

``He had a strong sense of what it meant to be an American,'' one that never confused a love of country with chauvinism, nationalism or a glorying of war, Laurie Manchester said.

But most of all, said those who knew him best, Manchester was a writer, and he was a father -- and not necessarily in that order.

Manchester was a writer of such prodigious drive, remembered his former editor, Roger Donald, that one afternoon telephone call Donald made to Manchester's office in Middletown found the writer confused about whether it was 2 p.m. or 2 a.m.

Manchester had been working for 28 hours straight.

The power of Manchester's writing, said Donald, the former publisher of Little, Brown and Co., came from something the writer gleaned from Charles Dickens: ``The use of massive and precisely used detail'' that allowed the reader to ``suspend disbelief.''

Manchester's literary career spanned nearly 50 years and included 18 books, beginning with a biography of H.L. Mencken, his mentor at the Sun. His work moved on to biographies of Gen. Douglas MacArthur and Churchill, four novels, and histories of the Middle Ages and mid-20th century America.

He wrote his seminal 1967 account of the Kennedy assassination, ``The Death of a President,'' after being selected by Jacqueline Kennedy. Manchester later became embroiled in a literary controversy in which the former first lady filed and later withdrew a suit to block publication.

But that creativity never meant that he valued his work more than his family, said Laurie Manchester, a history professor.

``He always had time for me. I never remember him saying, `I'm too busy for you.''' she told the chapel of mourners.

If she was sick, Manchester would bring his writing home so he could stay with her. He would transfix her friends with ghost stories at birthday parties, she said.

Manchester's children recently discovered a list that he had made of the most important events of his life. Along with notations of births and books published was a trip that Manchester had taken with Laurie to Walt Disney World.

That, Laurie Manchester said, was something that showed her father's ``child-like innocence, which was why he was such a wonderful father.''

Manchester's wife, Judy, died of a heart attack in 1998, just before they were to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. Manchester suffered a second stroke soon afterward. The writer was so ill that year that doctors said he would not survive, Laurie Manchester said, but she was unable to face the prospect of losing both parents in the same year.

``I made him promise me not to die, and he did [promise],'' she said. ``I knew he wouldn't [die] because he never broke a promise to me.''

The two strokes left Manchester without the ability to write, he told the New York Times in 2001. In recent years, Little, Brown has been besieged with inquiries from readers about the uncompleted third volume of ``The Last Lion,'' his Churchill biography. Donald told mourners Sunday that requests came from as far away as a terminally ill man in Australia who wanted to know if he would have time to read it.

Just two weeks before Manchester's death, it was announced that Paul Reid, a former features writer with the Palm Beach Post, would help complete the final volume. Reid, who became close to Manchester in recent years, also attended Sunday's service.

In recent weeks, with her father suffering from esophageal cancer, Laurie Manchester said she had told him he could suspend his promise.

A great believer in making family traditions, Manchester had asked his children to follow a Spanish custom: to construct his coffin. The family feared it would be too difficult, but its construction brought them together, family members said.

Manchester's service ended with the secular hymn the writer had requested -- the National Anthem, performed in an arrangement by his son, John, a composer.